


The Bed of Thorns

by afrocurl



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Calm Down Erik, Emotionally Crippled Erik Is Fun To Read, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Hate Sex, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Incest, M/M, mythological skeeviness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lord of the underworld has been bid to find a spouse. Fortunately for him, his choice brings prosperity to the world above.</p><p>But it leaves his husband miserable.</p><p>A twisted tale of Hades and Persephone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bed of Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [X-Men Tales](http://xmen-tales.livejournal.com), where I decided to twist Hades and Persephone. The product is a combination of three versions of the myth, along with some general information on Greek culture. Any glaring inaccuracies are all my fault.
> 
> Many thanks to **Cesare** , **firstlightofeos** , **spicedpiano** and the Tales chat for all their help and support as I wrote.
> 
> The incest tag is only used for the fusion with Greek Myths, but I'd rather err on the side of caution.

“It is time that you find a spouse, Charles,” Angel said, hands resting against her hips, her disdain at being sent here to deliver the message evident.

“Is that the word of Sebastian?” he asked, moving his body closer to the edge of his throne to get a better grasp on the conversation.

“It is. It is also the express wish of his wife, Emma. Your brother and your sister-in-law care for you.”

“Why is my life of such import to them now?” he asked, trying not to let the anger at his brothers and sisters influence what his niece was telling him.

“You are alone here in the underworld. The souls are unhappy, even those in the Fields who should have nothing but never-ending joy. There has been talk above on Olympus about your responses to some of the souls who seek your counsel.” Angel shifted her weight from one foot to the other before letting her wings ruffle, clearly put out by how long she’d been idle. “Perhaps someone else here would improve your mood with all those you look to you for help?”

“That is why this was given to me, Angel. I am to be alone--to be miserable. Who would love the lord of the underworld?” he asked. “Sebastian has long told me that he does not value my conversations, and Emma is too busy worrying about who Sebastian is sleeping with when he leaves Olympus to care what I say to her. That would make anyone taciturn.”

“There must be someone above. Someone not in Olympus to meet your needs,” Angel said, carefully pleading for her leave in the form of Charles’ agreement to their conversation. The sooner he agreed to find a spouse, the sooner she could return to her regular work bringing love to those who deserved it.

“How am I to find someone as I am?” he asked, hand cascading over his body to reveal his pale skin and dark chiton.

“Stay away from the cities, near the outskirts.” She had an irritated expression that said there was much more to say, but that she was holding back. This conversation was nothing at all like her usual attempts at uniting couples. Carefully-aimed arrows would do nothing to help Charles, even under the best of situations.

“Just this once. If you’ve got anything up your sleeve, Angel, I will know,” he chided. “You were not Janos’ only child. I know of what his offspring are capable.”

“I have nothing planned, Charles. Just promise to appear at the gates of Athens in three days' time. Do not head into the city.”

Charles nodded his agreement, before waving Angel out of his throne room.

She fled quickly, sensing the ire in Charles’ posture. His temper had been more balanced atop Olympus, though the years away from the light had turned him sour. His good mood, if tales were to be believed, was reserved for the dead who entered into the Elysian Fields--those who were a joy in life and were to be the same in death.

*

_...and the lord of the underworld was to choose a companion..._

*

Charles arrived as he had been bid three days later outsides the gates of Athens. The city hummed inside the walls, though Charles took no thrill in the living souls contained within them.

Away from the city, on the road towards Eleusis, Charles walked. He had few hopes on this journey; his brother had never been one to offer advice freely, or without deceit behind it.

Growing bitter at the thoughts of his brother’s motives, Charles stopped. Off the road and under a tree, sat a young man with a tablet at his side. He held a flower in his hand, examining it.

Charles had never seen a man quite as lovely--broad shoulders, his chiton draped nicely against his chest--his skin not reddened by too much work, the man’s eyes focusing on beauty in his hand. The tablet looked well used--small cracks on the outer edges from trips to and fro. As the man looked up, Charles tried to hide, his pale skin not suited for the bright sun beating down upon the road, but his eyes were captivated by the man.

“Hello?” the man asked, leaving his spot under the tree for the road.

“I did not mean to bother you,” Charles said while taking in more of the man’s form. His calves were well sculpted, evidence of days spent running through the fields, but still not so defined as to suggest years of hard labor.

“It’s no bother,” the man said, “I was just reading the latest works of Thales of Miletus.”

“You are well-read, then,” Charles replied. 

“It is the wish of my mother, Edith, that I be well-read. Though I prefer to spend my days here, in the fields, looking at the flora.”

“Admirable choice,” Charles said. “Forgive me, though. I have interrupted your time. I’ll be one my way.”

Charles started to walk away, towards the Temple.

“Before you leave,” the man said, “will you tell me your name?”

“It’s Charles. And yours?”

“Erik,” was the reply before he went back up the hill towards his scroll and flowers.

Charles turned to leave, though his eyes longed to look back at Erik’s fine features.

*

As Charles walked towards the Temple, his thoughts were drawn back to Erik. To the eyes, which changed against the light of the sun from blue to grey to green. To his soft smile at the mention of flora. 

Charles knew, though, that Erik could find nothing appealing or attractive in the lord of the underworld. He was pale, a poor conversationalist--content to talk about the souls that came to his home, not the flora. No one in Olympus much cared for him, or his stories of souls reunited after war had separated them, or his stories of the depths of love that souls held onto for years before being reunited.

The look of serenity on Erik’s face, however, would be a welcome addition to his home.

He was not sure if this was who Sebastian had in mind for him, though he didn’t mind in the least. Warm smiles and an eager mind might do him well. Turn him away from spent souls who needlessly pleaded, towards a higher purpose: love.

*

Erik sat reading his scroll of the latest reports from the harvest. His mother had scolded him for his time with those reports, for while she worked to keep the harvest robust, she also reminded him of the importance of a life outside of their duties. He was more than the god of vegetation, he was a son of Sebastian. He was to lead Olympus, sat beside his father, aunts and uncles--to keep Olympus happy.

He hid his tablets; he hid himself away from the eyes of the Temple and the hovel.His interests never involved the other gods' affairs'; he cared little about the forms Sebastian took on to bed other women or Emma’s rage against his conquests. The time by this tree was his. His alone. He had no interest in ruling Olympus as his mother wished, but he had no way to tell her so without leading to the suffering of everyone else, gods and mortals alike--his power not strong enough to lead alongside his father, his aunts and his uncles.

Shaking his mind away from his family, Erik looked back at his tablet. He had more to read about the status of the flora so far this season.

From underneath the roots, however, the earth opened up. Splitting the ground around him, Erik fell.

The dust cleared soon after and Erik sat, atop the rubble, to see Charles surrounded by a throne.

“Welcome, Erik. I hope you’ll enjoy your time with me. You can rule all of the underworld with me.”

*

_...and the companion arrived, only to be miserable..._

*

Another throne was brought into Charles’ grand hall. Erik sat, scowling, as Charles greeted those souls who requested an audience with him.

“Tell me why you should be sent into the Elysian Fields?” Charles asked one soul, face heavy with grief and loss.

“My wife was taken from me, years ago, during the last war. I have lived my life without her as best I can, but I know that she was granted entrance into the Fields because she bore her torture well as the enemy ravaged our village.”

“What is her name?” Charles asked.

“Her name was Jean,” the soul replied.

“What else can you tell me about her?”

“She lived with me inside the city walls. She worked as a priestesses for Raven.”

“She didn’t mention that when she entered.”

“Jean was one of many, Charles. Though she was the only one still capable of having children; we left behind a son. Raven had said that Jean was special; I think it was their red hair.”

With a careful nod, Charles replied, “I know of her. She is in the Fields. I believe your story; you may proceed to the Fields to be with her.”

The soul floated towards the door.

Erik shifted in his throne, annoyed by the display of compassion for the soul. “You show these souls more compassion than you show me.”

“What did you say, Erik?”

“You show these souls more goodwill than I am shown? I have been given neither a chance to speak with my mother since you took me, nor have I been allowed to leave your sight.”

A sigh escaped from Charles’ lips. “Erik, it is only so we can know more of each other. I fell for your features, but want to know your mind as well.” Charles rose from his seat, walking towards his consort.

“Yet we have spoken of nothing but these souls for days, Charles.”

“I know not how to talk of anything else, Erik. I am sure your mother has told tales of me on Olympus. Only I wish to be yours. To love you as I should.”

“Should you love me, Charles, please let me return to her. Let me wish her farewell,” Erik said, voice pleading.

Charles let the declaration echo off the cold dark stone. “If it will make you happier, Erik, I will let you return. You are not one of the souls; you’ve been free to come and go as you wish.”

Erik huffed before speaking. “It has not seemed so, my lord. It is a prison, not a home.”

“Have you not had all of your journals? Your reports? What more could you look for?” Charles asked.

“A companion; an ear at my side. I am not one to live in solitude.”

Charles had not thought of this life as solitude, but it was he who spoke to the souls, not Erik.

“Promise you will return to me, Erik,” Charles said.

Erik nodded, standing from the throne and leaving the room to leave Charles deep in thought.

*

In his chamber, his private respite from his husband, Erik sat. Tablets were strung across the large table, a few flowers littered between them. They held none of their previous joy. It was the light of the sun and the rustle of the trees that made Erik’s time with his tablets pleasant. It was the vegetation that kept him alive.

Here, he suffered. The few flowers that were brought down died within hours. He was given no access to the Fields, as a living soul.

A gentle knock came from the door. “Come in,” he said.

Upon a platter sat a small meal: a few pieces of fruit, some fine cheese. “Your husband bid these for you, sir,” the servant said.

“Thank you,” Erik said, nodding first and then dismissing the timid and shy girl.

He cracked open the pomegranate, a few seeds trailing down the plate against the slices of cheese. Picking up three of them, Erik popped them into his mouth, taking in the tart flavor of the flesh around the seeds. It brought him back to his home, his life above, his gift. He had yet to partake of any pleasures Charles had offered until then: his will finally broken. These were to be his only connect to his power, killed before he could see them.

A trickle of deep red juice trailed from the corner of his mouth, dropping against the plate with a _plop_.

 

*

Sitting impatiently in his own study, Charles rolled his hips against the chair, looking to release some of the tension in his body. The quick knock jolted him, made him rise from the seat.

“Yes.”

A small girl walked in, eyes not looking at her master. “I did as you wished, my lord. Your husband did eat, though not much. Three seeds from the pomegranate.”

“Very well, dear. Thank you,” Charles replied.

It was all he needed. He hastily wrote a missive to Erik, careful to tell him that he was free to leave when he was ready. He would be taken back to Eleusis, to see Edith.

*

_...and the companion left when it was time, to be taken home. a home that didn’t wish his return..._

*

A hard loud knock echoed through the small hovel next to Eleusis. Edith, alone, quietly sat to receive the guest, unsure of who would have reason to visit them now.

Since her son had been taken, she watched as the world around her flourished. It was as if the world had no need for Erik, his attention to details an overstep of his duties. She had seen more growth without him than in any season previous. She had pleaded with Sebastian to know where Erik had been taken, but her requests were always dismissed. 

“He’s a boy, off to sow his oats,” had been the reply.

She shook her head away from the memory, quickly making her way to the gate.

“Hello,” she said before stopping to halt the door from opening further. Shock took over her small frame as she saw her son on the other side of the heavy door, looking just as he had before he disappeared. She opened the door to walk through, closing the space between them quickly. She hugged her son tightly, not wanting to let him go.

“Where have you been?” she asked as tears fell from her eyes.

“In the underworld. Charles has taken me as his consort,” he said, voice barely above a whisper in her ear.

Pulling away from her son, Edith looked at him once again before grabbing his hand to bring him into the hovel. “I was so lost without you, dear,” she said, voice heavy with relief, her eyes still welling with tears.

“And I you, mother. I am not happy there,” he said.

Wiping away her tears and calming her breath, Edith waited with her hand still resting against Erik’s wrist. “I was not happy without you, either.”

Erik started to sob. Before she could stop him, he fell to the ground, clinging to it for dear life. “I have missed this. All of this,” he said through his tears.

She had not the heart to tell him how much the land had not missed him. Not yet. Despite her despair at losing Erik, the world blossomed. Her tears fed the ground, where she thought they should have dried it out. She had not the heart to break his heart while he looked so happy to be out of the underworld.

“Come, let us eat and catch up. You must tell me all about Charles.”

*

 

“He is more pleased with the souls than he is with me, Mama.”

“Charles was like that before you, dear. But if he is taken with you, he must be willing to change.” His mother winked at him, which nearly threw Erik into a fit.

“Mama! I do not know him. I have done nothing with him.”

“You have not eaten with him?”

“Never. He is content to let me alone,” he said. “If he was asked to find a spouse, why does he not talk to me? Why has he not tried to bed me yet?”

“Has he said anything to tell you why he has not?” his mother asked.

“Only that he wishes to know me better. Yet, we never talk.”

“Give him time, dear. He is not used to company,” she said.

“But we’re never together, except when talking to souls,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“He’ll come around, eventually. Take a meal with him, though do not eat the food, Erik.”

His eyebrow arched at her comment. “Why, Mama?”

“However much you eat there, that is the time you have above ground. Until you eat anything, you’re free to come and go as you please.”

He shook his head. “Mama, before I was told I could come here, I ate three seeds of a pomegranate.”

“Then, Son, you can only be here for three months before you must return to Charles.”

He looked across the table, searching for some small sign of a lie. He found none, just the sad eyes of his mother staring back at him.

Pushing himself up from the seat, Erik stormed out of the room. He ran as quickly as he could from the hovel towards his old tree.

All around the road, the flora bloomed. Bees hummed around the flowers, bringing life to all of them. Erik glowered at the prosperity; he had not expected to see the world surviving so well without him. His favorite tree stood against the setting sun--its leaves bright against the coral sky.

Anger grew inside him. A few tablets sat against the trunk of his favorite tree--easily kicked aside to crumble. Erik pushed against the tree, no longer content to see it live without him. After several attempts to dislodge it from the ground, he finally succeeded in uprooting the tree completely. He laughed at the fallen tree, at the proof of his destruction.

Unsatisfied with the demolition, Erik turned to the flowers that surrounded the remains of the tree, tearing them from the ground, crushing the stamens and pistils in his fist.

After a moment, Erik let go of the dead flora and started to cry. He had been so miserable with Charles, yet without him, the world thrived. He choked out sobs as his heart broke at the idea.

He wept until his eyes would no longer produce tears, still suppressing his cries when a hand came to rest against his shoulder. He looked up and saw his mother shedding her own tears.

“If three months is all you have, then let us make the most of those days,” she said, her hand rubbing small circles against his body.

His body heaved once again before he felt strong enough to speak.“Let us then,” he replied, slowly standing. He left the tree as it was: a sign of his displeasure with the world, and particularly with Charles.

*

“The harvest, which had been so robust, has wilted and died,” Sebastian announced.

“Is there a reason for that?” Emma asked, feigning interest.

“Erik has returned from the Underworld to visit Edith.”

“Then it must be him. Had Edith not reported how much the world grew while she was mourning her son?”

“She had,” Sebastian said. 

Emma was sure that the idea mulling in his head would push her nephew away from the live he had enjoyed.

“You must not force him to leave, Sebastian. At least not without hearing his side of things,” she said after a moment.

“Then I shall pay my son a visit.”

He gracefully left his seat, leaving Olympus for Eleusis.

There would be a few days of peace in her life. Emma smiled.

*

Erik sat against the rubble of his favorite tree--the tree Charles has found him under--and stared at the wilting flora around it. His ire had done nothing for the landscape; the few stands of grass crunched under his sandales.

His two months with his mother had brought nothing but devastation to the crops. His mother had told him of the prosperity they had had without him. He dropped the flower to his feet, unsettled at how the world had grown to live without him.

“Erik,” a voice said from the road before Erik could see a lean man with a walking stick, hair greyed, face wrinkled.

“Yes,” Erik replied.

“I have news from Olympus for you. Where may we talk?” the man asked.

“Can you make it up here? We will be alone here,” Erik said.

“With your help, I can.” 

Erik walked to the road and helped the man with the rocks that littered the ground without grass to cushion the ground.

“Thank you Erik. I have heard that you returned to us from the underworld.”

“I have, but I do not see why Olympus would care. I am not there regularly.”

“But you have heard of how well the harvest had been while you were away?”

“I have.”

“Sebastian only wishes to remind you that you’ll be leaving again soon. Perhaps that will bring the world back to life?”

Erik scoffed at the idea, but knew the truth. “I have only three more days here.”

“Then I wish you well with your time. Do give Charles my best,” the man said, rising from the ground with the aid of his walking stick.

Erik saw the man return back to the road, walking back towards Athens.

*

“I will miss you these nine months, dear,” she said quietly as she hugged her son fiercely.

“And I you,” he whispered. “I will return to you as I have left you,” he added.

“You will not, my son, but I know you will return to me.” She let her arms drop from her hug, stepping back to take one final look at him for nine months.

“Be well, my son. Open up and all will be right.” She stepped back again, before bringing her hand to wave at him. She watched him for a moment before she stepped back. Five steps later, he turned around, shoulders hunched. 

She turned around before she could see one of Charles’ servants lead him away.

*  
 _...and the companion returned to the underworld, to suffer and be miserable.._

*

Pacing the throne room, Charles tried his best to calm his nerves. The three months that Erik had been away had woken him to what his husband had said just before leaving.

_A companion; an ear at my side._

Charles had been none of that to his consort. He had been selfish, cruel even. He had, in these three months, been as cheerful as he could with his servants. One day, he even left for Olympus to discuss Sebastian’s plans for another war and the toll it would take on the Underworld.

Emma had noted to him before be left how much more engaged he had been, how much he had battled with Sebastian about the necessity of war. 

He had smiled at her kind words, content to know that he could change. He had changed.

It was difficult to wait, though, when he wanted so much to show Erik what he had done.

*

A foot tapped against the cold stone of the grand hall. Erik knew, before he could see, that Charles was waiting for him.

Erik wondered if Charles had been so impatient for three months, but knew better than to ask the question so quickly upon his return.

“My lord, I am yours again,” Erik said quietly into Charles’ chest while he kneeled.

“You will always be mine, even when you are away,” Charles replied.

Erik rose from his stance and eyed his husband. A small smile sat across his face, his cheeks a bit red. Charles looked nothing like he had before when Erik had left.

“You look much changed, Charles,” he said.

“I am, Erik. I hope I can show you as much later today. Settle in as you need. I will take a small walk through the Fields.”

“I do not need much time, my lord. But if you care for such a walk, I would like to eat with you in my study in two hours time.”

“That sounds lovely.”

Erik nodded his agreement, curious about how cheerful Charles appeared. It was nothing like the man he had left. Nothing at all.

Erik sat in his throne while Charles readied himself to leave for the Fields before he also left for his study.

There was much to prepare.

*

Flowers, slowly dying, covered the floor of the study, just as Erik had bid the girl to do.

She arranged them as her lord had told her, scattered against the heavy rug. Pillows joined the flowers atop the rug.

She did not ask why she was ordered to complete this task. 

*

Charles knocked against the heavy door of Erik’s study. He had agreed to this meeting after his walk, as he tried to collect his thoughts at his husband’s return. 

He had done his best to be congenial, to be open, to be inviting.

He was not sure it had worked.

“Come in, my lord,” Erik’s voice said through the door. Carefully Charles opened the door to the sight a large rug in the middle of the room, dried flowers mixed with dying ones. A plate sat near a collection of pillows, Erik’s figure leaning against another small group of pillows away from the plate.

“Sit,” Erik said. Charles followed the command, lowering himself into the rug and into the pillows next to Erik.

“Did you have a good walk?” Erik asked, slowly raising his hand away from his chest and towards Charles.

“I did, but I did not expect to come back to this.”

“I do not think you would expect a great many things from me,” Erik replied before leaving his small collection of pillows to draw closer to Charles.

“I did not,” Charles said through a heavy breath. He had longed for Erik in those three months, had longed to know his husband. To truly _know_ him. It was too much to hope for here, though. 

Too soon.

“I found that the world above does not love me as I do it,” Erik said, lips ghosting across Charles’ ear. “In my absence, the flora grew. My true place is here. At your side.” 

Charles shuddered against Erik’s words, against Erik’s hand resting atop his own hip.

“I--” Charles started before Erik claimed his mouth in a kiss. It was fueled with anger, Erik’s teeth biting against his own lower lip, but it felt like everything that Charles had imagined in those three months. 

Erik pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dark and predatory. Charles moved to cover some of the space Erik had retreated from, intent on continuing Erik’s desires.

“I wish to take you. To do to you what you did to me,” Erik said, pushing back into Charles, back into the space Charles had occupied. “I want you to know what you have taken from me. What the world has taken from me.”

Charles nodded before Erik pushed him firmly against the pillow and rug, flowers crunching hard under him. He grunted at the pain.

“That,” Erik added, “is only part of this, my lord. You will know the pain I have felt as I heard the world bloom without me.”

Charles swallowed his reply, instead raising his hips to meet Erik’s forceful body as it pinned Charles against the rug.

“You will know my pain, Charles,” Erik said once again. Through his lidded eyes, Charles half-watched as Erik’ chiton fell away, revealing his husband's fine muscles, his erection obvious.

“I wish you no pain here,” Charles managed to reply before Erik’s mouth was once against his own. Erik’s rage content to punish Charles into silence, while a hand pulled away the dark chiton against Charles’ pale skin.

“You wished me pain the day you stole me,” Erik bit out as he rutted against Charles’ pale thigh. “You wished me death as soon as you saw me,” he continued while pushing Charles legs farther apart.

Charles’ hand felt for the plate at his right. There had been a vial of oil. 

“You do not deserve such,” Erik said against Charles’ ear as his husband’s body pushed against his own.

“As you wish,” Charles said, voice heavy with want. “You shall have me as you wish. You are mine as I am yours.” Charles felt droplets of wetness against his chest, his erection leaking after Erik’s vicious handling.

Erik bucked his hips against Charles’, their erections rubbing together. Charles moaned, elated at Erik’s attention, no matter the circumstances.

As quickly as he could, Charles brought his hand away from the plate and tried to wrap it against Erik’s back, willing his husband closer. “Take me,” he said.

Erik body responded quickly, pushing into Charles’s space with a force he had not imagined Erik capable of. Sweat grew between them, their hips moving in a rhythm that made Charles want all the more.

“Now,” he said. “Now, Erik. I’ve wanted this. Without you, I only thought of how to make you happy,” he tried to finish before Erik’s erection shifted, pressing against Charles’ hole.

Sliding against it again, Charles moaned once more before Erik gave in, pushing against his husband and into Charles with a force that pushed him into a thorn from a dying rose.

*

Erik looked over at Charles, his husband’s expression blissful and sated atop the dying flowers and the rug drenched in sweat and come. 

However, he felt no such bliss. His plan had failed. Charles took great pleasure where Erik expected him to take pain.

Nine months like this would not go as Erik had planned. No pain for Charles at being taken, at being split wide.

There was no peace for Erik here. Nor was there peace above.

“That was wonderful,” Charles murmured, shifting his weight closer to Erik, and into a half embrace.

Erik would have no peace. No solace.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I did twist the myth to have Persephone be miserable. *shrug*


End file.
